


Meteor Forever

by Callmesalticidae, DaneelsSoul, shadow_wasserson



Series: Building From Scratch [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Discussion of Human Quadrants, Dream Bubbles, Epic Shitfits, Gen, Hanging, Hemospectrum, Mentions of Cancer, Meteorstuck, Rainbow Drinkers, Troll Biology, Troll Culture, Unintentional Noncon Papping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 04:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6500071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callmesalticidae/pseuds/Callmesalticidae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaneelsSoul/pseuds/DaneelsSoul, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_wasserson/pseuds/shadow_wasserson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TG: this is the story of that one time that Rose told everyone that she<br/>messed up the whole navigation thing and told us we were lost forever<br/>TG: and then told Karkat he was going to die of cancer<br/>TG: predictably he threw a massive shitfit</p>
<p>CG: FOR FUCK'S SAKE STRIDER THAT IS NOT THE POINT OF THIS STORY. THAT IS A SIDE NOTE TO HISTORY *IF THAT* AND YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED FOR EVEN CONSIDERING PASSING DOWN SUCH A SHITTY SUMMARY.</p>
<p>TG: fine this is the story of the time Karkat had a massive shitfit<br/>TG: for about the 27 millionth time</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hanging Out with Trolls

**Author's Note:**

> Act 1 of Building from Scratch

**February 11th, Year 1 of Sweep 2**

Your name is Rose. But not that one. Because you are a different Rose from the one with which most people are acquainted, it might be a good idea to introduce yourself:

You have a variety of INTERESTS. You have a passion for RATHER OPAQUE SCIENTIFIC LITERATURE and can wax on for hours about DARK MATTER AND DYSON SPHERES and SIMULATIONS AND MARITIME NEANDERTHALS. You enjoy creative writing and are NOT REALLY SECRETIVE ABOUT IT, but that is mostly because there is nobody to show it to and you have not learned to have a SENSE OF SHAME about these things. You have a fondness for ALIENS AND HUMANS IN ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS, perhaps because both other people and emotionally intimate relationships are slightly unfamiliar and you are attempting to encounter them in the various forms of “The Other”, but you do tend to PSYCHOANALYZE YOURSELF a little too much. One might say that you like to SEW, insofar as you do a lot of STITCHING and work with NEEDLE AND THREAD, but mostly the stitches are fixing your clothes or closing your wounds.

It may clarify matters some to state that your full name is ROSE HARLEY. This is apparently something that is worthy of being remarked upon, although it seems fully natural to you. Of course, you have been living on an island all by yourself ever since your grandfather got sick and died, so there are probably a lot of things that seem normal to you that are totally weird to everyone else. Like the fact that you are your own nurse, which made your friends very worried for you when they found out about it. You sort of gathered from your stories that this was not the usual thing, but your stories also had CANNIBALISTIC SPIDER BEINGS and EERILY-AFFECTIONATE XENOMORPH-TYPES, so it has not always been clear to you what was true and what was just a convention of genre.

Another unusual thing about you is that you are dead. Apparently you were supposed to have a GREEN-AURA’D MUTT, but your grandfather dropped the ball on that one and never found it. This fucked up your timeline tremendously but, in fairness, just as much damage was done by the dislocated meteors of yourself and your compatriots. Who are also dead.

Not that this will mean terribly much. You are not the protagonist of this story, but merely a temporarily-prominent supporting character who will stay around for some time in order to propel certain events in the direction of other events. Perhaps you will be revisited in the future, but you are a Maid of Blood and not a Seer of any sort, let alone a Seer of Time, so you do not know. You do not even know that you are just a supporting character.

Then again, most people don’t know that about themselves.

Anyway. What will you do, tropicalThaumaturge?

===> ROSE: Talk to Karkat

Before you died, you had never even heard of a troll. Apparently they were unable to communicate with doomed timelines, which yours had become as soon as your meteors had gotten off-course.

After your death is a different story. The effervescent land of the dead is apparently full to the frothy brim with trolls (not to mention aliens of other stripes), and you were simply ecstatic to find out about this. You have met a few Karkats in your time, but this is the only one who is still alive. That may be the cause for his relative amiability but you have too few data points to make a meaningful conjecture on the matter.

Whoops! You’re getting lost in thought instead of doing the thing that you were intending to do. Again.

Let’s try this again. You go back to check your screen and note the angry capital letters that have been staring at you for the last several seconds.

CG: TAKE YOUR TIME. I’LL JUST CREATE A WHOLE FUCKING UNIVERSE WHILE I WAIT.  
CG: LIKE, OH, YOUR UNIVERSE.

Oh. You must have been zoning out. And now Karkat’s ranting. Well, there’s only one way to deal with that. There’s a topic that you needed to broach anyway. Let it never be said that you are familiar with the word “tact.”

TT: And kill it. Kill it with cancer, Karkat.  
TT: Like you’ll be killed.  
CG: NICE TRY. I’VE HEARD WIGGLERS WITH BETTER COMEBACKS.  
TT: 6_9  
CG: OH VERY FUNNY. USE MY SIGN TO MAKE A… WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF FACE IS THAT ANYWAY? A MENTALLY-DERANGED FINBEAST?  
TT: It’s a crab.  
CG: THAT’S THE STUPIDEST “CRAB” I’VE EVER SEEN. WHERE ARE THE CLAWS?  
TT: Where do you think?  
CG: I THINK THE CLAWS ARE BURIED IN YOUR GANDERBULBS, SINCE YOU CAN’T SEEM TO SEE WHAT A CRAB ACTUALLY LOOKS LIKE.

You have an extremely witty response for this, but you are interrupted by a blow to your head.

When you retrieve your senses, you are hanging from the ceiling, suspended by your neck. The noose is not actually tight enough to totally strangle you, but it is really uncomfortable.

Still better than actually strangling. Then you have to wake up all over again.

From your position you can see the computer screen, just barely.

TT: WHY 4R3 YOU W4ST1NG YOUR T1M3 K4RK4T?  
CG: DAMMIT, SHOULD HAVE KNOWN.  
TT: TH1S 1S WHY YOU DON’T DO 4NYTH1NG WORTHWH1L3.  
CG: TROLLING IS ALWAYS WORTHWHILE.  
TT: YOU W4ST3 YOUR T1M3 4RGU1NG 4BOUT CR4BS. J3GUS.  
CG: JEGUS YOURSELF! YOU’RE THE ONE WASTING TIME PRETENDING TO BE SOMEONE ELSE. HOW DID YOU GET ACCESS TO HER ACCOUNT ANYWAY?  
TT: 1 JUST KNOCK3D H3R FROM TH3 K3YBO4RD. SH3 W1LL G3T B3TT3R.  
CG: BETTER AT WHAT? CRABS? COMING UP WITH SCATHING INSULTS?  
CG: BECAUSE SHIT, THAT WAS TERRIBLE.  
TT: B3TT3R TH4N B31NG D34D.  
TT: 4LTHOUGH… 1 DONT R34LLY L1K3 TH3S3 R3PORTS ON H3R D3SK… >:[  
CG: YOU KILLED HER? DON’T TELL ME, SHE BROKE SOME OBSCURE LAW FROM HUNDREDS OF SWEEPS AGO?  
CG: WAIT. “KILLED” HER OR ACTUALLY KILLED HER?  
TT: N31TH3R 4CTU4LLY. 1 D1DNT T4K3 TH3 T1M3 TO T13 4 PROP3R KNOT.

She turns back and grins at you, mouth full of shards, then returns her attention to the computer.

You wonder what she’s going to do about the documents that she licked.

TT: 1 DONT R34LLY R3M3MB3R WHY THOUGH. 1T W4S SOMT3TH1NG 1MPORT4NT, 1 TH1NK.  
TT: 4ND B31NG 3X3CUT3D ONC3 1S NO R3SP1T3 FROM JUST1C3.  
TT: SH3 C4M3 B4CK. SO SH3 H4S TO B3 M4D3 D34D 4G41N.

Of course, if she really wanted to kill you for good then she could find a way. Your hunch is that she’s getting antsy, and wants to exercise her skills without really hurting anyone.

Or she’s flirting black with you. Which is not necessarily a bad possibility. Nor a good one. You don’t really know how you feel about it. But there is a reason that you have continued to leave the third-floor storage room window unlocked.

CG: BECAUSE SHE’S A GHOST RIGHT?  
CG: OR IS THERE SOME OTHER FUCKERY THAT BRINGS PEOPLE BACK TO LIFE? OR GHOST-LIFE? OR WHATEVER?  
CG: I THINK I MIGHT HAVE FALLEN ASLEEP FROM SHEER BOREDOM AFTER THE THIRD OR FOURTH RESURRECTION.  
CG: THAT SHIT GETS OLD.  
TT: W3… SHOULD F1ND 4NOTH3R QU3ST B3D HOW3V3R.  
CG: WHAT HAPPENED?  
TT: DO YOU F33L S1CK 3V3R?  
TT: R3C3NTLY?  
TT: >:[  
CG: I FEEL SICK FROM ALL THE IDIOCY AROUND ME.  
CG: MAKES ME WANT TO CHUCK UP MY GRUBLOAF.  
TT: R1GHT.  
TT: T3LL M3 1F YOU 3V3R 4CTU4LLY DO TH4T  
CG: WHY? IS THERE SOME KIND OF PLAGUE I SHOULD KNOW ABOUT? SOMETHING NEW TO KILL US ALL?  
CG: THERE’S NOT NEARLY ENOUGH THINGS HERE TO WORRY ABOUT, AFTER ALL.  
CG: A PLAGUE VIRUS IS ALL WE NEED.  
CG: HURRAY, DEATH BY HEMORRHAGIC FEVER!  
CG: I CAN’T FUCKING WAIT.  
TT: …  
TT: NO  
TT: 1TS NOT US  
CG: THE HUMANS?  
TT: C4N YOU W41T? 1 N3D3 TO F1ND 4 SH34F3SC4NN3R.  
CG: SURE. WHATEVER, DON’T HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO.  
CG: FUCK, TEREZI. I MEAN, IT’S NOT LIKE WE’RE ON ALTERNIA ANYMORE.  
CG: BUT ASKING SOMEONE IF THEY FEEL SICK?

TT has pestered (1) Dox to CG

TT: 1M SORRY 1F TH3R3 1S SM34R1NG.  
TT: 1 H4D TO L1CK 1T TO G3T 4 B3TT3R LOOK.  
CG: WHAT’S THIS?  
CG: MEDICAL DOCUMENTS? WHAT THE FUCK IS ALL THIS?  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK.  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK.  
CG: WHERE DID YOU GET THESE?  
TT: TH3Y W3R3 ON TH3 D3SK H3R3.  
CG: JUST NOW?

Terezi scrolls up, briefly reviewing the chatlog thus far.

TT: 1 TH1NK TH4T SH3 W4S T3LL1NG YOU 4BOUT TH1S  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK, NO, SHE WAS MAKING FUN OF MY FUCKING HANDLE.  
CG: THAT’S ALL SHE WAS DOING.  
CG: THIS CAN’T BE RIGHT.  
TT: 1T PROB4BLY 1SNT  
TT: 1M SUR3 1T 1SNT  
TT: DONT WORRY 4BOUT 1T  
TT: JUST… L3T M3 KNOW 1F YOU F33L S1CK  
CG: I’M FINE. DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME. THE ONLY SICKNESS HERE IS A BAD CASE OF THINKPAN MELTING FROM SHEER IDIOCY.  
CG: I’M JUST. FUCKING. FINE.  
CG: WHAT DOES A HUMAN KNOW ABOUT THIS SHIT ANYWAY?  
CG: FUCKING NOTHING  
CG: I WOULD RATHER GET A MEDICAL OPINION FROM FUCKING GAMZEE THAN A HUMAN.

“Gamzee… does know a lot about anatomy,” you offer. Terezi responds with a growl.

You’re still not sure what you’re doing here. Besides hanging. You are not even sure if that was properly pitch, if pitch is a quadrant that you’re terribly interested in.

TT: FORG3T 4BOUT 1T.  
TT: HUM4N R4MBL1NGS.  
CG: THIS IS HOOFBEASTSHIT.  
CG: I’VE ALREADY FORGOTTEN ABOUT IT.  
CG: SEE, FORGOTTEN.  
TT: R1GHT  
TT: GOOD  
CG: WHAT WERE WE TALKING ABOUT? I’VE FORGOTTEN IT.

Terezi sighs. She cuts you down, lets you fall to your knees, and leaves without saying anything.

You wish that you had some good news that you offer her. That’s why your Seerish doppelganger got you started on the topic. Between the two of you, however, the best news that you can offer is that you don’t know. Or that, if you’re right, he won’t get sick for a few years yet.

But you’re not the Maid of Blood for nothing. You know blood, and you know that Karkat’s isn’t red for nothing. He’s missing something. And someday, it might just kill him.


	2. Blood Chemistry

**February 13th, Year 1 of Sweep 2**

You are Kanaya Maryam, and you are sitting in what has, in lieu of anything better, been designated the commonsblock. You are reading a magazine, and sipping from a glass of teal liquid. This state of affairs is interrupted halfway through a thrilling article when Terezi enters.

She stops in her tracks upon entering, and sniffs the air. “Kanaya. I don’t remember making a donation recently.” She pauses, obviously thinking. “Did you figure out a way to preserve it better? But then, who donated more?” Terezi rubs the side of her neck absentmindedly.

“Oh, this?” You shake the glass a little. “This is Rose’s innovation. She discovered a method for alchemizing blood, though I myself did not find out until recently. She wanted to make sure that there was nothing wrong with it before I began to try it, and did not want to get my hopes up if she discovered something wrong.”

It would hardly have been the first time that an attempt to alchemize blood for you had failed to work. “That is… interesting.”

“Yes, isn’t it?”

“You do not need more donations, then?”

“If this continues to work, and I encounter no problems during this testing phase. This is much more convenient for all involved, and much less unpleasant for many of those involved.”

“How does it work?”

“I am not entirely sure but I believe it involves some quantity of Nepeta’s paints as well as some human blood. But of course once we had the code we could alchemize the blood as needed. It is almost indistinguishable from the real thing.”

“Well. That is… that is good.” Terezi seems momentarily put off by the mention of Nepeta, but shakes it off. “Why did you choose teal? Does it matter?”

“Oh, I am sorry if it makes you uncomfortable,” you say, wincing a little. “I will admit that it does taste better.”

“Why?”

“I am not sure. Blue is even better still. And Fuschia is the best of all.”

“And lower on the Hemospectrum is worse, correct?”

“From my experience, yes. Somewhat bland.” You shake the glass again, staring into it. “I do wonder why at times.”

“But you don’t know.”

“It is part of the Rainbow Drinker mythos that highbloods are most often attacked. Rose suggests it has to do with certain chemical compounds in the blood.”

“How does human blood compare?”

“Human blood is unacceptably awful. We quickly determined that it was no substitute.” You take a long sip of delicious, fragrant teal blood.

“How many varieties have you tried? Of troll blood, I mean.”

“Every kind that was present in Nepeta’s paints, which included everything up until Indigo, and of course what has been generously donated.”

“But… there are differences between alchemized and not, right?”

You frown slightly. “I am curious as to this line of questioning, Terezi.”

“Nothing,” she says quickly.

“I assure you that it does not appear that I will need continued donations. My body seems to be taking to the alchemized blood quite readily. And though fresh blood has a certain viscosity and temperature, the alchemized substitute is more than sufficient.”

“I am just… wondering about something I found, in the other Rose’s room. The Maid of Blood’s.”

“You mean from the dream bubbles.”

“Yes. But it doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t really mean anything.”

You can tell that something is bothering her. “Rose has been speaking with tropicalThaumaturge when we intersect with dream bubbles, and often in her sleep. Perhaps you would be better off asking her.”

“No. It doesn’t matter. A waste of a legislacerator’s time!” she declares forcefully. A bit too forcefully, in your opinion.

“Hmm…” You take another sip.

“There are transgressions to punish. Somewhere.” She falls silent.

“If you are curious, Gamzee never donated,” you tell her, trying to fill the awkward silence.

She pauses a moment. “How does Karkat’s blood taste?”

“Oh, is that was this is about? Almost as bad as human blood, to be honest. I did not want to turn him down as he was very generous. In truth I was worried for his health, but he seemed so insistent.”

Terezi jerks, as if she’d touched a live circuit. “What do you mean? Why are you worried?” she asks, a note of panic in her voice. Then: “There shouldn’t be anything wrong anyway. Never mind.”

“He was giving more blood than I thought would be healthy. That is all,” you say slowly, looking curiously at her. “And more than I wanted, honestly.”

“Maybe a John wrote it. This is a John thing,” Terezi mutters.

“Are you alright? Has the conversation topic upset you?” you ask, and Terezi takes a long time to say anything, opening her mouth and closing it and opening it again.

“Someone is saying that Karkat may die soon. He’s off the hemospectrum,” Terezi says, “and in a bad way. It isn’t funny!”

“I am not laughing,” you reply.

“I should hang the… the other Rose again. Make her have to wake up again,” she mutters. “That should instruct on her the inappropriateness of this.” 

“I think that you should talk to our Rose.”

“No. She is doing very important things, I am sure. And so am I. Always more investigations to be made…”

You frown. All of you are going a little bit mad, perhaps, but Rose has her books, and you have your fashion, and Dave has his… various activities enjoyed only ironically. Even Karkat has his films. But Terezi was built for something else, and she can only investigate dust mites and missing spoons for so long before the frustration gets to be too much. Even her play executions of tropicalThaumaturge seem less like kismesissitude and more like a desperate clawing for the things that she knows, deep in her bones, that she was born to do.

It isn’t pleasant to see her so out of sorts. “Lately she is mostly trying to alchemize new reading material. I am sure that she would not be bothered.”

“Probably. I should go.”

And she leaves. You figure that you should probably warn Rose about this so that she will be better equipped to deal with it in the future. But for now, you continue to sit and read and finish your meal.

===> KANAYA: Be future Rose

You are Rose Lalonde, and you had been informed some time ago by your matesprit that you should be expecting Terezi. Or rather, that you shouldn’t, not really, because she was probably not going to show up, but that you should expect her in the event that Terezi was being more sensible than she appeared to be. As you have not gotten the least hint of her in the hours since, it is evident that she is no more sensible than Kanaya suspected her of being, and that you will need to go to her.

You can hear her pacing from outside her door. A sniff, every once in awhile, and then a growl.

You knock on the door, and shortly thereafter she opens it up.

“What do you want?” she snaps. She has opened the door only a bit, perhaps half an inch. “I am very busy. Beetles and things.”

“Oh, good, you’re in. Beetles? It sounds fascinating. You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

“Someone has been killing the Maid of Blood. It is very mysterious. Finding the culprit may take weeks. So you can see that I am very busy.”

“Yes.” You nod gravely. “My rifle-wielding doppelganger told me that she has been hung many times, both fatally and non-fatally. A truly nefarious crime, committed by a black-hearted villain.”

Terezi looks away. “Missing… socks, too. Dave says someone has been stealing his socks. Since before the Game, even!”

“I do not doubt it. Perhaps I could be of assistance?”

“No, not at all. I am grateful for the offer, but I work alone. The life of a legislacerator is a lonely one,” she says.

“But you told me that legislacerators often worked in pairs.”

“New rules. Lonely life, starting today. And you are busy anyway. Alchemizing things. Being inventive. I will… Go to sleep so I can interrogate the Maid of Blood. That sounds productive.”

You look her over. She has still not opened the door much further than another inch. “You seem… agitated, more than usual. Is there something on your mind? Kanaya has informed me that such offers are considered… inappropriate in Alternian society. But if you are comfortable with it, I am willing to be a listening ear, if you need one.”

Terezi mutters something below the range of your hearing. Then: “Someone is saying that Karkat… is going to die. Sooner than he should. I don’t like it. It keeps bothering me. It shouldn’t. It isn’t true. But it still does. I don’t know why anyone would have said it.”

You nod, slowly. “May I come in?”

“You may.”

You walk in, and sit carefully on the corner of her desk. There are no chairs. There are papers plastered all across the walls, sometimes linked by strings of various colors. You can’t read the writing on any of them. “Are you certain that it is just the deceit that it bothering you?”

“Obviously. I don’t know what I was thinking, believing it at first. I was caught off guard,” she says. Terezi is still not sitting down. “Reprehensible. Unforgivable. There is no-one to hang me for it, though.” She legitimately sounds disappointed at the notion, somehow.

You shrug. “Such a deception, were it deception, would be in very bad taste,” you agree. “Terezi, you know that I have been alchemizing troll blood for Kanaya’s sake.”

“Yes. Very good. It was a wonderful innovation.”

“Thank you. You see, both you and Karkat were willing to donate, but Kanaya preferred yours, and I had plenty of Karkat’s left over. I thought at the time that we might be able to spread things out by figuring out a way to preserve it-- this is before I hit on the recent combination for alchemizing blood. I tried irradiating it. We don’t have to worry about most diseases here on the meteor, not unless there is something locked up in the deeper levels, but we brought with us microorganisms that could still cause spoiling. I also wondered if the process might affect the taste, make the blood more palatable for Kanaya.”

You don’t say anything else, not until Terezi prompts you. “And?”

“And… I think that I may have found why trolls seem to live so much longer than humans,” you say. You fold your hands in your lap. “I’m fairly sure you already know, but a long-lived human would be... “ You calculate the numbers. “Forty sweeps, if I have the conversion correct. It has something to do with the blood.”

Terezi does not seem pleased with what you are saying. You are sure that there is a part of her that has already put it together, that knows the conclusions even if she has not been given all of the pieces yet.

“I am no chemist, of course: the Alchimeter is a comparatively crude device, and so were the instruments I rigged up to attempt the irradiation process. But I experimented nonetheless. I mostly wanted to make better blood for Kanaya, but was also curious in general about trolls.”

You will not say that all of the alchemy also made you feel like a wizard stirring a cauldron.

“I tried to make other foods with the same qualities as troll blood, so that Kanaya could enjoy solid food. I tried making the blood itself, though I did not succeed until recently.” You realize that you are stalling, talking of inconsequential things, and get back on track. “Troll cells do not age in the same manner that human cells do, but it appears that, in the absence of a particular blood compound, trolls are even more prone to getting cancer than humans are. My counterpart tells me that that most organisms on Earth seemed to have built-in kill switches, that evolution had selected for death from old age, and it seems that on Alternia this was accomplished not by a gradual failing of the body’s systems but by the onset of cancerous growths.”

Terezi nods. She must have at least some familiarity with the aging process of trolls. You are putting some of this in a new context for her, but is it not all unheard-of.

“The purpose of this blood compound is to inhibit cancer in your body. The amount of the protein appears to have an inverse relationship to the likelihood of developing cancer, such that the more of it your body produces, the longer your life is likely to be before developing malignant tumors. And… its presence has an obvious visual effect.”

“The hemospectrum.”

You nod. “Your body produces a greater amount of this protein than Kanaya’s does. Aradia would have probably died very young, much younger than most humans, because she had even less of it, and so the odds were that much greater of her developing cancer. But Karkat… Karkat does not appear to have any, or if he does then its presence is minimal. Less than Aradia would have had. My counterpart’s research appears to have settled that conclusively, confirming what had been suggested by my irradiation experiments: his body will be very bad at fighting off cancer, whenever it arises.”

“Then we will alchemize it somehow,” Terezi says, as if you’re stupid for not thinking of that already. “Why haven’t you done so already?”

“We have only come to this conclusion recently. Neither of us have had any success in isolating the compound itself, nor in alchemizing it. Transfusions may be possible, but according to Kanaya there is a considerable risk of rejection. At this point…” You shrug. “We can only wait on my counterpart as she asks around the dream bubbles and conducts whatever experiments she thinks of. At the end of the day I am not a biologist, and Kanaya does not have that kind of training.”

Terezi begins pacing. “And now Karkat knows. Except he doesn’t, thank god, because he thinks that it’s a bad joke. Which it should be! This isn’t just,” she snaps. “Humans might have short lives and that’s… fine, maybe.”

You furrow your brow, but listen.

“It doesn’t matter. But the rest of us are going to live longer. Karkat shouldn’t… die like that.” She taps the front of her teeth with a claw. “I’m going to outlive Kanaya. I was hoping that Karkat... that he might live longer, not die quick like a lowblood. I know that there will be a new world, and it will be populated, but the matriorb is gone and there won’t be any other trolls and I don’t want to be the last one. I don’t want to be the last to remember.”

You do not mention that Gamzee will be there as well. After whatever aborted attempts they made towards blackflirting last year, before she became distracted by your counterpart, she does not seem very interested in seeing much more of him.

“Nothing is definite. We have some evidence but none of it is certain. Karkat may get lucky with the dice, so to speak.”

“Why does a little blood chemical matter anyway? It’s stupid. This wouldn’t hold up in the court. Maybe.” She sighs. “It might. It would. What do we do to change this?”

“We need to learn more. I have been keeping an eye out in the dream bubbles for a doctor, but since we only pass through for limited periods and then uncontrollably. I did ask Aradia.”

“And what did she say?”

“She only posited that Karkat might be a mutation of the Yellowgreen, which would give him a decent lifespan if we were somehow wrong about all of this, or if we were overlooking some other mutation which was able to cover the problem. Perhaps he simply won’t get cancer at all, or perhaps we’re misunderstanding, and there’s another force at work in fighting cancer, and Karkat’s problem is simply that he is especially vulnerable to radiation in particular, and all we have to do is make sure that he applies his sunscreen.”

“Good,” Terezi says. “That’s better.” She seems content.


	3. The Four Loves

**February 14th, Year 1 of Sweep 2**

You are Rose Harley, and you are standing in front of a large viewport. The great wide black stretches out forever, an inky canvas in which a meteor hangs suspended. But not the meteor. A bubble simulacrum of one.

You have earbuds in, but you’re able to hear when somebody comes in and speaks.

“Oh, it’s you,” someone says.

You turn to see Karkat. “Hey.”

“I didn’t realize it was a dream bubble this time. Too bad, I was starting to get used to the freakish alien worlds and idiot ancestors. By which I mean I was starting to not feel like ripping my cranial pelage out every time I fell asleep.”

“Shrug.” That is, you actually say the word. You spent years holding all of your conversations over pesterchum, and it’s infected your spoken mannerisms a little.

“It was a novel feeling. I felt great. Fan fucking tastic.”

You laugh. “I like this bubble,” you say, slipping your hands into the pockets of your ratty trench coat. “What can I interest you in? We have some… inky black space matter out in Aisle Five. And some stygian black space matter on, well, all of the aisles, actually. All of them. But you come from a meteor, so I can’t imagine that you are in need of stygian black space matter.”

“I’ve got enough soul-sucking black horrorterror void to last me a lifetime.” Karkat crosses his arms. “For fucking ever.”

You grin.

“What is this anyway, is this your memory?” he asks.

“It isn’t mine.”

“Whose is it?”

“I… don’t know. Just someone’s bubble. I imagine that we could find the owner if we looked.”

“How useful,” Karkat sneers.

“I think that it is yours, however. It seems like how you described the meteor.”

“Mine? No, if it was mine I’d be at home, or back in the Medium. God, the last thing I need is to start dreaming about this shithole.”

“It is definitely a meteor, and it matches with what you have described of your meteor. But nobody is home.”

“Whatever. Everyone might be in their room. It is daytime after all. Or the time we all pretend is daytime.”

“Is it now? I had wondered how you decided that.”

“Well, the humans pretend that it’s nighttime. Freakish aliens.”

“You don’t try to synch,” you say. “Interesting. Well, I don’t care. Daytime, nighttime, it is all the same to me.”

“Sure. It’s all the same. Day, night, life, death, who the fuck cares.”

Speaking of death… You tug on the collar of your coat, a little nervously. “You haven’t seen Terezi around lately, have you?” you interrupt.

“...Is she still giving you problems?”

You adjust your collar again, briefly revealing rope marks. “Not really. It can be… a bit of a sidetrack. Sometimes. A time sink. So I try to keep our encounters limited to when I can afford the diversion. Fun girl, but very, ah, overwhelming in person, you know. Very distracting.”

“I talked to her earlier, but she’s a stubborn asswipe,” he grumbles.

You pat him on the back, and he straightens sharply. Hm. You’re pretty sure that twitching like that is not the right response to a friendly back-pat. “We do what we can. Do you play chess?”

“What? No.”

“Shame. Then you are not here to play chess. Well, what can I do for you? One Hero of Blood to another.”

“Nothing. There is nothing you can do for me. Because I don’t need anything done.” He turns away. “Goddamn it. You’re fucking useless anyway.”

“Well, next time you’re able to, stop by my bubble. I have finished those books that you lent me. Or maybe you would like to retrieve them now.”

“I… If you’re done, yes.” He looks at you curiously. “...You read them quickly.”

“Of course. They are fantastic, if I do say so myself. Well…” You reconsider your words. “I won’t lie. Not all of them. But they were all worth the read, at least.” You pause a moment and rest your fingers against your forehead, trying to remember where you left the books. “So let’s see, second bubble on the right of Dave’s fifth birthday party memory, and straight on till that one nap that was too long. I think. Navigation here isn’t a very firm science, is it?”

“You left them in another bubble?”

“In my own bubble, Karkat. But as we have established, this one is not mine.”

He sniffs. “Fantastic. Know a shortcut?”

“Well, it’s all in the way that you think about it. I think. Right this way and on the left, come on.”

Karkat looks in the direction that you are pointing, somewhat apprehensive. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Always. Or mostly always.” You tap the glass of the viewport and fall through as if, quite suddenly, it was no longer there. Karkat follows, after an appreciable delay.

It takes a little while. Or maybe a lot while. Or the space of time that it takes to blow out the candles and realize, “Hey wait, this isn’t my birthday, whose cake is this?”

But the point is--to get back to the point--that someday, at some point, you arrive, appearing surrounded by piles of books.

“Pardon the literature,” you announce after Karkat appears. “I would put them on shelves but having a multitude of stacks on the floor suits me better. Also I cannot remember what I did with the last set of shelves that I had here.”

“Well, I can’t say that it’s worse than Gamzee’s room.”

You hand a stack to Karkat, ten volumes thick. “I especially liked the one, what was the name, they’re so long… Well, the one with the protagonist whose lusus keeps changing sex, with strangely sudden changes to the protagonist at the same time. I like that it was not… played up in the way that a human probably would have done it. It was simply a thing which occurred.” You pause. “Do you… have any more pale literature? Diamonds pale, that is.

“I would offer to make an equivalent exchange, by the way,” you add. “Bloodchild? But perhaps that would not be quite in your literary alley. Romantic, or at least I think so, but not really a comedy.”

“Hm. Romantic tragedy is its own genre. Don’t confuse the two,” he says. “I’ll see what I can find for pale romance.” He looks at the books in his hands. “If you liked A Midblood Protagonist Shifts Sex during Their Adolescence, Resulting in Them Growing up with the Strongest Features of Both Male and Female, Giving Them a Career Advantage in Adulthood, after Which They Forget Their Lusus and Abandon Them to the Caverns, Only Later Realizing Their Error When Nine Sweeps Later They Start up a Black Relationship with Their Lusus' next Charge and Realize That It Was Their Lusus Who Got Them to This Stage in Life and Not Their Own Merit, then I suppose you have better taste than the other humans I have met. So I will sample your choice in human literature.”

“Well then.” You sort through your stacks. “Bloodchild and Other Stories. You will have to let me know what you think of it when you are done.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh. And I should send you over a copy of Love is the Plan. That is another good one. Just so long as we are exchanging alien romance stories. I should really dig through and find some that are more typical human fare. So how have you been feeling? That is, doing. Doing. How have you been doing?”

Karkat doesn’t reply until he has finished captchaloguing all of the books, which takes several seconds. “I’ve been great. Who wouldn’t be great, stuck on a rock for over a sweep with a psychotic clown, a psychotic rainbow drinker, a psychotic Terezi, and two humans. Fucking fantastic. And the dream bubbles have only served to brand into my pan the fact that my ancestors and fellow Alternians are all either drooling idiots or also psychotic.”

“I am glad that I am not with you on the meteor. No offense. Do they have hot chocolate there? Do you want hot chocolate?”

“The humans make it sometimes. I never tried it. Most of the humans’ food is awful.”

“I would hardly be interested in experimenting then. The chemistry might clash.”

“What do you mean?”

“Even some Earth species cannot have chocolate without getting sick. Theobromine poisoning. Humans are big enough that it’s okay, but cats are more sensitive than dogs so it is possible that your greater mass might not be enough to counteract whatever sensitivity you may have.”

Karkat visibly rankles. “I can handle human food fine, it just tastes disgusting. My body is fine. I can handle your pathetic hot chocolate.”

“I beg your pardon. I did not mean to cause offense. But alright: Be it on your corpse if you get ill.”

You make a large pot--enough for many, many cups-- and fill two. You hand a cup to Karkat.

“Careful, it’s hot.”

“I’m not going to get ill.” He takes the cup carefully. “What is the matter with you? I’m not going to get goddamn ill.” He blows on the chocolate.

You take a seat in one of the large beanbag chairs in the room. “What else can I do for you? There is an infinity of dream bubbles out here. Thus, the odds of coming across me at random are effectively nil. Obviously you must have had something on your mind.”

“I must have subconsciously wanted my books back.” He taps his foot irritably. “There is no other reason I’d be looking for you. I am absolutely fine.”

“Of course. Then why have you not decided to leave? Is everything alright on the meteor?”

“No change since last time. No sign of Gamzee for a while. Kanaya and Rose are continuing some kind of hideous romance in whatever quadrant humans use. I can’t tell. I remain as I always have been, though I’m beginning to suspect Strider of flirting with me. Who can tell with humans? They don’t even acknowledge blackrom at all so what the fuck is he even getting at?”

“Redflirting then? Or blackflirting?”

“He’s just trying to annoy the shit out of me. Like it’s a fucking sport. Drive-Karkat-Insane-Orb.”

“I have to say that blackrom is fascinating at least as an idea, even if I do not know if I could ever experience it for myself. I would choose to if I could, however.” You take a cautious sip of chocolate, testing the temperature.

Karkat sits down on a beanbag chair. “It’s a much better system than trying to shove all your romantic intentions onto one person and calling that fulfilling. How can that even work?”

“The Greeks had what we call the Four Loves, as well. Though I don’t think that you can really fit them into quadrants.”

“Are ‘Greeks’ a kind of human or what?”

“A human civilization, yes. Though they weren’t quadrants, as I said, ‘love’ is still too general. Four words is a definite improvement. Storge, for example, is comparable if not identical to moirallegiance. And eros is unequivocally matespritship. But that is as far as the similarities go.”

Karkat still has not had any of his chocolate. You are somewhat disappointed, as it is a quite delicious batch. “What were the others?”

“Agape is general benevolence. A desire for the good of a person without regard to anything: status, relationship to oneself or another, et cetera. Philia is also somewhat like moirallegiance. Storge could also be the bond between lusus and troll.”

“Huh. So all the human quadrants are redrom?”

“Yes.”

“Bizarre.”

“Shrug! I like quadrants. But then, I have heard rumors of some leprechaun system with fifty or so. I would not mind trying that one out too. I think that the quadrants give us useful terminology, at least. It may not be standard, but I can think of some humans in our history who had a kismesis.”

Karkat brings the subject back on focus. “So you think Strider is just fucking with my head or what? I want to shut this down quick if he’s being serious.”

“I think that openness is always good. Playing it safe, telling him to cut it out just in case. I do not think that he could really do blackrom, however.”

“Ugh, he doesn’t take anything seriously. It irritates the shit out of me. I’ve told him to stop, you think he listens? You think a single word I say makes it through his thinkpan?”

“No. I am almost--I say almost--surprised that you do not get along better. You both put up fronts, as far as I can tell. Images. You put up images. But then, don’t we all?” You smile.

“What? What the batfuck are you talking about?”

“We are all pretending to be someone who we are not. Sometimes that someone is pretty close. But we all try to get people to see us in a way that is not completely accurate. Your Dave is a very good example, much better than mine. Pretending to be other people is something which we all have in common, however. I wonder why we don’t all bond over it more.”

“I’m not going to attack his insecurities. That would just be blackflirting back at him.”

“Hah,” you say. “I did not suggest that, you will remember.”

“So then what are you trying to suggest? I’m not hiding anything, I’m wearing my vascular bladder on my fucking sleeve here.”

“Sure.” You reach over and pat his arm, attempting to be reassuring.

It does not reassure him. In fact, it seems to do the exact opposite.

“...Fucking shit,” he says, an expression somewhere between shock, anger, and fear crossing his face.

“What else can I do for you?”

“FUCKING SHIT.”

You flip around, positioning yourself upside-down on your beanbag chair. You wonder what’s suddenly troubling Karkat.

“Get out of here,” Karkat yells.

“This is my bubble,” you remind him. “I am rather attached to it. I think that I will stay.”

Karkat stands up. “Fine. I’m Fine! You know that.”

“I didn’t ask about that.”

“Who put you up to this? Was it Strider?”

“Which one, John or Dave? You have to be clear about these things. But I just wanted to know if there was anything that I could do to help. Like those books.”

“You can fuck off! I don’t need your opinions.”

“If you wanted new movies to watch,” you suggest “I could lend you some of those too.”

“Who put you in charge of-- Fucking shit! Goodbye.”

“Bye Karkat! Let me know how you liked the stories!”

He stomps away without another word. Very curious. You wonder what’s going on with him.


	4. A Vintage Shitfit

**February 14th, Year 1 of Sweep 2**

You are Terezi, and you are feeling just awful. Dave gave you some human dried meat strip product earlier, and now you are pretty sure that it was poisoned because you are feeling a little ill.

Karkat, as usual, has an opinion about this. “How many fucking times have I told you not to eat the human food, Terezi? It’s horrible, even when it looks like regular food.”

“But it smelled good. And I’m bored of grubloaf.”

“Then go play with the alchimeter until you get something else. Mix Faygo with the grubloaf or something. Actually, no,” Karkat says, reconsidering. “Don’t do that. Really don’t. That would be horrible.”

You mime vomiting. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

Rose pokes her head in. “Are we attempting to alchemize new edibles?”

“Dave gave me vermin poison,” you tell her. “I may die.”

Rose talks as you begin to look through the fridge for something to wash this horrid taste out of your mouth. “Yes. That sounds like Dave. Befriends you for several years, and then suddenly turns to poison. Killed off several of my food tasters before he gave up.”

“It probably wasn’t as bad as ‘coffee’,” Karkat says.

“The coffee here is another matter,” Rose tells him. “It’s terribleness brings it to a whole new level making it once again drinkable.”

“No it doesn’t,” you respond. You grab a gallon container of red-flavored Kool-Aid and begin to drink from the vessel directly.

Karkat agrees with you for once. “That shit is not drinkable by any conceivable definition of the word ‘drink’.”

You replace the Kool-Aid back in the rear of the fridge, about a quarter of it left.

“Perhaps it would be a good idea to have a more thorough cross-cultural food exchange program,” Rose says. “Perhaps with someone more competent than Dave in charge of the preparations.”

“I don’t think that would work, Rose. I have yet to see a single item of your food that tastes even approximately edible.”

“I liked the snickerdoodles,” you say.

“Surely there is something to be found. I hear that both cultures already share the delicacy of colored-sugarpuff-balls.”

“It’s probably just something you call cotton candy but it’s really made out of hoofbeast hair or some shit,” Karkat guesses. “I don’t know. God, I miss real food. Beefgrub balls with vermi-strands and vitreous sauce.”

“Yes, Karkat, you’ve found me out. Human cotton candy is in fact made of horse hair. Also cotton. And rat poison.”

“Or even a baked cluckbeast,” he continues. “Just a straight-up baked fucking cluckbeast.”

“You’re making me hungry, Karkat. Stop it,” you tell him.

“Yes, what a shame that in our access to extraordinary powers and regions literally made of dreams we are unable to acquire simple food animals.”

“It’s just not the same when it’s alchemized,” you say. “You wouldn’t understand. You can barely taste anything, really.”

“I just want to know how it’s possible that the only edibles that survived our session were variations on grubloaf. How is that even possible? I’m not counting the faygo,” Karkat adds. “The faygo does not count. Will they have cluckbeasts in this new session? Or just more human food? How close are we anyway? I know it’s been well over a sweep?”

Karkat looks at Rose, as though she should know. Which, you suppose, she really should. Why do you get the feeling that she’s acting funny all of a sudden?

“Wellll,” she begins, “funny you should ask that…”

Oh Jegus! What in the world is up with Rose?

===> TEREZI: Be Rose

You are Rose and you were really hoping to avoid this topic for a while longer. Actually, if you are being totally honest with yourself, you were probably hoping to avoid this topic ever coming up, but that of course is not very realistic. But you were hoping to maybe be a little bit more sure of things, or at least have slightly more control over how things came out. Karkat, at the very least seems to be taking it splendidly.

“Oh, don’t fucking start! I swear if we’re not at least halfway there… I’ll flip a shit or something!”

“I was in the process of studying the intervening portions of the Furthest Ring in preparation for our arrival…” you trail off, wondering if there’s any way you can manage to put this conversation off. “And they were not remotely where I expected to see them.”

“What do you mean?” Terezi asks.

“Well, my original visions had us passing near certain ancient monstrosities about now. And they appear to be in absence.”

“...Wait, so is that good or bad?” Karkat asks.

“When the horrorterrors comprise the best signposts for navigations, it can be a poor sign if one of them is missing. Unfortunately, it seems to be not an issue of a single missing signpost but perhaps, in this case, an indication that we are in the wrong neighborhood entirely.”

“You mean we’re lost,” Karkat clarifies. “So… How long is it going to take to get un-lost?”

And this is where things get bad.

“Well… It is considerably more complicated than that. I believe that a dream bubble several months back may have knocked us off-course. Though that’s still pretty speculative. Unfortunately, navigation in these waters is not a simple matter and the route that I had planned was taking advantage of a rare window into the other session. It might take some time before I can ascertain the coordinates of another such opening. And even if I were to discover another opportunity, we seem to have left our means of propulsion behind us.”

“Wait. You’re saying we can’t change course?” Karkat demands.

“Well, I suppose we might be able to find another version of Sollux in a dream bubble somewhere, but I am not aware of any actual propulsion mechanisms on this asteroid.”

“Rose. If we can’t turn,” Terezi asks, “then how likely is it, really, that we will coincidentally find just the right window?”

That’s a good question. But it doesn’t have a good answer. Or at least, not an encouraging one. “Ummm… I think that if we do not find a new method of steering that our chances of finding an appropriate window before colliding headlong into an obstacle, or perhaps a time shifted version of ourselves, or having Jack Noir catch up to us, or simply finding a window into the wrong universe… are probably as likely as the chance that a grain of sand thrown into the ocean would find its way onto a planet’s moon before hitting the sea floor.”

“...Oh my God. Are you serious?” Says Karkat, continuing to display evidence of his renowned tendency to take bad news calmly.

“Tell me that there are many moons in your planet’s ocean.”

“Unfortunately, our oceans are nearly devoid of lunar bodies. And yes, I am serious. I was hoping for a little more time to confirm, but unless I have misconstrued the signs, we are in serious danger of never reaching our destination.”

“Where are we going, then? Are we going anywhere?”

“Well, to the degree that there is a ‘where’ all the way out here, I am pretty sure that we are going somewhere.”

“God fucking dammit Rose!” Karkat shouts. “This is not fucking funny!”

“I am sorry,” you say. “But until I know what exactly went wrong or have considerably more time to investigate our present circumstances, I will not be able to accurately predict our destination. From what I can tell, we should be safe from catastrophe for at least a little while, but I think that acquiring a new means of locomotion should likely be a priority.”

“What are we going to do in the meantime, or if we can’t change course?” Terezi asks. “What about John and Jade?”

“Hm… I don’t know precisely what is going on with our companions, but I do not see why they shouldn’t be proceeding as planned. I imagine that the Witch of Space would be capable of navigating around any problems that they encountered, though their path is of a somewhat different nature than ours.”

“Fuck. Well, isn’t this all just a gaping shitload of festering vomit! Okay, maybe we can find some version of Equius who could make us an engine? If we can stay in a dreambubble long enough for him to build it… And if it stays when we leave… Fuck. That’s not going to work. And if the horrorterrors are moving, how will we even know where to aim for? It’s that Lord English guy the Ancestors keep talking about, right? He’s the one making them move. FUCK.”

“I thought we were supposed to make it,” Terezi mutters.

“Hmm… I hadn’t actually thought that they had been moving. I simply took it as an indication that we were in the incorrect location. Though I suppose it might be possible that this Lord English is responsible for our having gone astray.”

“I don’t know,” Karkat continues to flip his metaphorical shit. “I don’t know fucking anything.”

“Well… if our present condition is a product of external malice,” you say, “it might have escaped my foresight. Honestly, the Seer of Mind might have as much insight into such processes.”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t feel like that’s what has happened,” Terezi informs you.

You nod. “Well, if that’s the case, then unless I really botched my initial assessment, I can see only one other possibility,” you admit. “At the onset I ascertained that in fact a path existed to our desired destination. But there are many choices that must be made on any journey, leading to a branching of possibilities. I have done my best to trim away the extraneous offshoots, but I may have missed one along the way. That is to say, we could be in a doomed timeline.”

Karkat is the first to break the ensuing silence. “So… What, we’re just dead now? Dead trolls walking? We might as well just jump off the meteor and join the fucking dreambubbles and just… Fuck. We fucked up. It’s fucked. Goodbye, we’re fucked.”

“Well it might not be that bad yet. My dream-self spent over a month in the offshoot timeline caused by John’s death before Dave returned to undo it.”

“So when will it get that bad? Do we even know? Or are we gonna be fucking around here until one day we explode?”

“I don’t know. As I said, I cannot see any immediate disaster on the horizon.”

“Dave might be able to bring us back into the Alpha timeline, assuming we can figure out where they are,” you say. “Then again the prognosis for survival after such an operation would not be good.”

Karkat headdesks onto the commonsblock table. “This is fucking perfect. Perfect. PERFECT. I’m...Fuck. I’ve always wanted to spend my life on a meteor with the same people forever. That was my dream as a wiggler.” You’re glad that he’s sort of shouting, because his voice is muffled and you wouldn’t be able to hear him otherwise.

“Karkat, while I am flattered by your obvious enthusiasm about spending time in the same general facility as myself, we do still have other options besides merely sitting around here until the inevitable happens.”

“Oh, fuck you, Karkat,” Terezi interrupts. “You don’t get to pretend that you expected much out of life. How much did you socialize on Alternia, exactly? And how long were you going to live when the drones came to take you offworld?”

“Fuck me? Fuck me?? I’m not the Seer here! I was going to be a threshecutioner and fucking… do things! See the fucking galaxy or some hoofbeast shit!”

“With your blood?” Terezi asks pointedly.

“Fuck you and fuck my blood! I got that far, I could keep-”

“And you were going to survive how long, exactly, in the military? Where battle wounds are a fairly regular occurrence? You don’t get to complain. Out of all of us, your life expectancy has improved. The same people for the rest of your life? Fine, but it beats having no-one because you’re dead, doesn’t it?”

Oh good. They seem to have gotten too distracted by whatever this is to berate you too severely over your failure having quite likely gotten everyone killed. Though Karkat seems to be having a rough time of it. You sure wouldn’t want to be him right now.

===> ROSE: Be Karkat

You open your mouth. You have retorts. You want to say, you’re going to say, “That’s why I trained, so that I wouldn’t get wounded at all.” You want to say, you’re going to say, “I’d be so good at it that they won’t even care.” You want to say, you’re going to say, “I’d be too smart to let them see anything.”

But the words ring dead in your auricles before you even start.

You want to scream. You want to hiss. You want to hit something. You want to bare your teeth, and grab an object from your sylladex and throw it on the ground as hard as he can.

“Rose, I think Karkat has been broken.”

“Fuck you, Terezi. Fuck. You.” You flail for a moment, then grab fistfuls of your hair and pull. “I’m sick of this shit. SICK. OF THIS SHIT.”

“Karkat…” Terezi puts a hand on your shoulder.

“No. Fuck you.”

“You have to have known this already,” she says, almost soothingly.

You shrug away and make as if to stomp off.

“This can’t be news to you,” she continues.

“FUCK YOU!”

“What are you feeling right now?”

This time, you really do hiss.

“Karkat, I don’t think I adequately understand the intricacies of pre-reckoning troll civilization in order to assess the merits of your childhood plans, but I do think that you perhaps need to ask yourself what you are really looking for. We were never expecting to find any new trolls in this other universe to begin with. Regardless of what happened, we could expect to find ourselves interacting with essentially the same small group of people for however long we had left.”

“I know. I know that! I know that Rose! I know that there aren’t any more trolls, and you know what, I don’t give a fuck anymore! I don’t give a fuck about trolls! Or humans! Or horrorterrors or… whatever the fuck new beast crawls out of paradox space’s asshole! Fuck the new universe. Who needs it? Fuck the ‘other options’! There have never been other options! There have never been any options except ‘game over’! Fuck all of you.”

You stomp off.


	5. A Very Disease Day Story

**February 14th, Year 1 of Sweep 2**

You are Terezi Pyrope. You can hear Karkat’s footsteps fading into the distance after his hasty retreat from the foodblock following Rose’s recent revelation.

You wrap your arms around yourself and lean back on the wall. “That did not go well,” you say.

Rose nods in agreement. “Do you know how to deal with this? Perhaps if we could locate his moirail?”

“I don’t want to deal with Gamzee.”

Rose sighs. “Fine. Do you know where I might find him?”

Before you can say anything, Dave comes in, holding a bucket of oily, pleasant-smelling foodlets. “Yo TZ, I got some more snacks. Ever try popcorn? That shit is the bomb.”

“I have never bothered to wonder where Gamzee is,” you say before taking advantage of your matesprit’s presence to get off of that topic. “Daaaaveeee, you fed me vermin extermination substances!” You smile, just a little bit: you know that he didn’t mean it, and you’re feeling a little better now.

“No man, I distinctly remember handing you jerky. Did you eat the wrong thing or…?”

“It was most certainly the exact thing that you handed to me. And it was vile.”

“Oh, so that’s what it was,” Rose says. “I had been wondering what this mystery poison was.”

“I could have died,” you say, grinning. “I almost wish I had.”

“Shitty alchimeter must have messed it up. Well, don’t worry, if you die I’ll throw you the most baller funeral. It’ll have like ten thousand ghosts all crying and shit. Dressed all in black and sackcloth and the best ashes this side of Derse.”

You sigh. “There is no Derse. We’re probably never seeing Derse again.”

“Whatever, Prospit then.”

“Or Prospit.” You turn your head away.

“Dude, TZ, come on, riff with me here. You’re not giving me much to work with.”

Rose spares you from having to explain. “Uh, Dave, there’s something I might need to fill you in on.”

“Oh, uh, shit, it’s not a good thing like ‘I finally alchemized apple juice’ is it?”

“We’re lost, Dave. We might have had some slight navigational problems while sailing through the vast darkness of the Furthest Ring. I’m worried that we might even have found ourselves in a doomed timeline.”

“So you’re saying we were like canoeing up Shit Creek and then a shitodile stole our paddle, and ate the paddle like it was beef jerky and then came back for more but we were like ‘we don’t have any more paddles, shitodile,’ so it left us here. Up Shit Creek. With no paddle.”

“And then another shitodile bit a hole in our canoe,” you add.

“Yes,” Rose confirms. “We do appear to be lost in the waters of a fecal river.”

“And Karkat isn’t feeling well,” you say.

“What’s up with Karkat?”

“Ah, if only we had an answer to that eternal question. ‘What is up with Karkat?’” Rose says.

“I may… I may have pointed out that he would have died an early, miserable death on Alternia, so the Game was actually the best thing that ever happened to him. He… did not take it well.” You frown. “I did not think before I spoke. Or I did, but I… wanted to make him angry. It was stupid.”

“Guy has issues, Terezi, there’s no getting around that. He gets angry when you look at him funny.”

“You would be angry too if you were him,” you say. “If people saw your eyes then they would only look at you funny.”

“And perhaps these are now our issues,” Rose says in agreement. “Whatever we try to do about our situation, I have a feeling that it will be nearly impossible without his help.”

“Should we go after him?” you ask. “I want to. But I should probably not be making decisions about this.”

“I don’t know. Perhaps rushing after him immediately after we have upset him is not the best of ideas.”

Dave takes a moment from eating his popcorn. “Wait, so what are we talking about? Is there a plan or something?”

“Not yet,” Rose answers. “I have only recently become aware of our situation. But I have a feeling that his assistance will be required before the end.”

“Cool,” Dave responds. “That sounds good and not ominous at all.”

“But in any case, I might have an idea for how to cheer up our dear Knight of Grumpy, even if we don’t know how to fix the larger problem. Karkat’s complaints seemed to focus on many of the admittedly substandard living conditions on this station. A lack of variety in provisions in particular was mentioned.”

“What does he want,” Dave asks, “like, troll filet mignon? Troll Champagne?”

“Baked cluckbeast,” you say.

“Wait, seriously, he wants chicken? That’s why he’s upset? His troll knickers are in a troll knot because he doesn’t have any chicken.”

“Perhaps,” you respond. “Would that be something which you might know how to make?”

“I don’t fucking know. KFC is what, part grease, part chicken, part Colonel Sanders, part capitalism…”

Rose picks up the train of thought, “Part grease part chicken spawned in the darkest recesses of the mythic far-off land of Kentucky. Trained for years within the dark vaults in the arts of juiciness and trained to wield the dreaded breadcrumbs.”

“And one hundred percent finger-licking good,” Dave concludes.

“And how would you alchemize that?” you ask.

“Well, has anyone figured out how to get the old Colonel? If only we had access to one of John’s jokebooks,” Rose says. “That southern prankster has to be related.”

“Uh, no can do sis, I don’t think I have the code for that book.” Dave suddenly smells thoughtful. “Hey, you think crow is anything like chicken?”

“Perhaps you could mix the crow with white paint. In any case, despite a lack of Southern military figures to prepare the food for us, perhaps we could attempt to cook it ourselves.” Rose smirks. “We could have Karkat eating crow in no time.”

“Sure, go for it. I’ll send you the code.”

“Terezi,” Rose asks, “Can you tell us anything about troll food preparation conventions?”

You take a moment to think, in order to minimize details that you are pretty sure are common to both of your worlds. “Most seasonings are grubsauce-based. We don’t have to cook our meat, but that would probably be best. Raw meat is associated with journeys far from home, when you do not have the time or resources to cook, or worse, when you cannot take the risk that your fire will be spotted. I am not sure that Karkat would have personal experience with those situations, but the idea is well-entrenched in our culture. So we should let this crow marinate, then cook it. In its own juices, of course.”

“I… do not remember if Karkat likes eyes,” you add. “Some trolls do not. But we do not waste the rest of the cluckbeast and stuff it with plant seed mush like you do at your gobblefiend feast gatherings, wasting all of the delicious organs.”

“Yes. Most humans seem to find the organs distasteful for some reason. Though that opinion is not universal.”

“The brain is the most prized part, as our ancestors thought that it would grant them a measure of the wisdom of the cluckbeast.”

“So to be sure that I understand,” Dave interjects, “Your ancestors would eat the brain to ensure that they could acquire the wisdom of a troll chicken?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, so Troll Thanksgiving has no stuffing but lots of baked brains. I can get behind this,” Dave says. “Sure. Marshmallow yams, yes or no?

You take a moment to try to remember what marshmallows are. You are pretty sure that that is a thing that sounds familiar to you. “We do have bowls of marshmallows sometimes, but I do not know what yams are.”

“Yams are an orange, mushy vegetable,” Rose says.  “No. Not that I have heard.”

“But Troll Thanksgiving must at least have apple pie, does it not?” Rose asks.

“I have eaten fruits before. I lived in a tree. But most trolls, while it is possibly a pie, do not eat it like I recall Dave describing apple pie to me. The red-skinned fruit, you see, is already in the great woolbeast’s stomach. One simply removes the stomach and cooks it within a doughy container. And that is… the closest that we have to an apple pie, as I understand your apple pies.”

“Well at least the Pilgrims can rest easy knowing that Troll Thanksgiving seems to pass the minimum standards,” Dave says. “Though it sounds like they probably skip the cranberry sauce, which as I understand it is borderline heretical.”

“In any case,” Rose continues, “to summarize we should marinate the bird in grubsauce, cook it whole, and possibly remove the eyes.”

“The only cooking I ever do is maybe Ramen,” Dave admits.

“I can cook. My lusus wasn’t exactly able to do it for me.”

“As can I,” Rose says, and directs her voice towards Dave. “Not everyone is willing to subsist solely on pizza and microwaved noodles. Next question: Does this place actually have a kitchen, or do we need to improvise?”

“Have we really gone all this time on the meteor without learning if it has a kitchen?” You ask. “It is the opinion of the court that the verdict is ‘no’. Unless you count the commonsblock here.” You point at the fridge--really an alchemized thermos made larger than any thermos has a right to be, and filled with alchemized ice on a regular basis.

“Hmm… Well, this might be harder without a stove. Do we roast it over an open flamethrower?”

You nod, “That could work.”

“Well, I suppose we had better get to work with the alchemizer then.”

“Yeah, I think I’d leave you ladies to it, but open flame roasting sounds pretty sweet.”

And so you all scamper off to work on your various tasks. Something new for a change. You wonder how this will all turn out.

===> TEREZI: Be someone who can see how this will turn out

You are now future Rose. In particular, Rose in that particular part of the future where the food has been only recently finished and a small mob is making its way to Karkat’s door.

 

You are holding the piece de resistance, flamethrower-roasted crow on a platter. Keeping the grubsauce on as it cooked was tough. As was roasting it evenly. Especially when the flamethrower got bumped that one time. And you had to use a welding torch to get some of the underside. But despite the difficulties, it definitely looks palatable assuming that you are willing to ignore the rather large charred bits.

 

Terezi is holding a strange amalgam of human and troll apple pie, adapted in light of certain missing ingredients. No one else is willing to stand near it, let alone hold it. She has also made remarks on its smelliness, but for all of the reasons that you and Dave don’t think that it is peculiar.

 

Dave is holding a bucket full of Faygo-flavored marshmallows. Apparently marshmallows are a highly-respected side dish and deserving of their own bowl, not unlike green beans or corn.

 

“So is everyone ready for the first annual Troll Thanksgiving?” You ask.

 

“Sure man. Are we gonna put on a pageant too? With like Pilgrims and Squanto and shit? Corn and fish, or whatever it was, burying fish and corn. Let’s trace our hands and make turkeys, and have a cornucopia.”

 

“I don’t think it would be helpful to explicitly celebrate the ascent of Her Imperious Condescension,” Terezi says. “That might bring up the wrong memories of home.”

 

“Come again?”

“We should probably leave out the actual name of the event. You are talking about the annual Festival of Expressing Gratitude for the Reign of Her Imperious Condescension? I think that this might be a sore point for Karkat, so we should keep it a strictly dinner-related affair. Just food, no ceremony.”

“Wait,” you say. “Are you saying that there is actually a Troll Thanksgiving celebrating that, or are you worried that this was related to our human traditions?”

“The first one. But we eat these things on other days as well. It is the pageant that makes the Festival, which is why I did not think of it at first.”

“Yes,” you affirm, “that might be a problem. I suppose we should avoid any reference to that. Though perhaps if we are going to be stuck here for a while, it is time to start some of our own annual traditions. Though of course this will likely invite heated arguments over which calendar to use to mark the occasion.”

“How about we call it ‘Make Karkat take his head out of his ass’ day?” Dave suggests. “Call it Ass Day for short.”

“While I firmly believe that this would be an admirable yearly tradition to have,” Terezi notes, “Calling it that might prove to be counterproductive.”

You briefly consider mentioning that today happens to fall on the human holiday known as Valentine's Day, but realize that the spirit of that day is not terribly compatible with what everyone seems to be aiming for with this. Also, you find that you would be perfectly happy letting that overly commercialized holiday die a miserable, lonely death.

“Seppucrow Day. Caw Caw Day,” Dave suggests.

“How about the day of celebrating that hideous, but no less enjoyable, disease called friendship? We can call it Disease Day.”

“Disease day,” Dave repeats, letting it go over his tongue. “Not bad, not bad.”

“I think that is a fitting name for our new tradition,” you conclude. “And if it is to be a celebration then we should gather Kanaya and the Mayor so that they may be present as well. After that, I suppose that all that remains is finding Karkat and then letting the inaugural Disease Day celebrations commence.”

Dave leaves to gather the Mayor, and you run off to bring Kanaya into the celebration.

===> KANAYA: Join the celebration

The Mayor stands there in all his besashed glory.

Terezi looks much happier than she did earlier today.

Dave readies the marshmallows.

Terezi begins to bang on the door. “We made you a delicious bowl of marshmallows! And pie, with the stomach and everything! And even a cluckbeast! Open up! Or you will have to answer to His Honorable Tyranny for rudeness and vile disrespect,” she adds. “And also the cluckbeast will get cold.

Karkat opens the door a crack and glares out balefully. He appears to have a pair of headphones hung around his neck and is wrapped up in a blanket. “I was at the best part, Terezi. This has better be important.”

“What could be more important than celebrating the first Disease Day with your fellow passengers?”

Karkat gives a blank look. “The what?”

“Disease Day,” you say. “To celebrate this disease we share that is called ‘friendship.’”

Terezi hands the Troll Apple Haggis Pie to Karkat. “Disease Day Pie!” she announces.

Karkat takes it in shock. “You’re shitting me. There’s no fucking way you got a woolbeast out here. This is completely impossible. Oh God it smells so fucking good. How the fuck did you do t?”

“You know what they said on that old show you used to watch,” Terezi says. “Friendship is pestilent.”

Rose glances around at her co-conspirators, then gives less mysterious answer. “Well, it did prove to be quite the challenge, but with godlike powers and a little improvisation, we managed.” Slightly less mysterious, anyway.

His shoulders relax by just a hair. “Okay, so what do you want from me.”

“Pft, nothing, it’s just an act of peace and goodwill towards trolls,” Dave says.

“You think I don’t know you better than that, Strider?” Karkat demands. “Or you, Terezi? You’re all just manipulating--”

“Oh shut up and have a marshmallow,” Dave says. He throws one at Karkat. It bounces off his cheek and falls gently in the haggis pie.

“Karkat, in your outburst this morning, along with the many, many overreactions you did have a point,” Rose interjects. “We could all be stuck on this rock together for a very long time. If we are going to manage that while maintaining a modicum of sanity, then we are going to have to start building some customs of our own. Find something to celebrate here.”

The Mayor waves the platter of crow around.

“And we cannot hold celebrations without our contagious friendleader,” you add.

“So, Karkat, what is it going to be? Are you going to mope in your room all day, or will you come join us?”

He makes a grunt. “Of course you can’t do it without me. I’m fucking essential for any celebrations.” He picks up the fallen marshmallow and eats it. “This tastes like fucking Faygo. If the pie tastes like Faygo too I’m going to flip a shit.”

The Mayor continues to waves the crow platter around, with greater vigorousness.

“Hey, Karkat, the Mayor has something to say.”

The platter is presented to Karkat. With great aplomb, you must note.

“What is that?”

“What does it look like, Karkat?” Rose asks.

“It is a masterfully-plucked cluckbeast flame-roasted dish,” you say. At least that is what it looks like. Well other than the masterfully bit. Well, it’s probably cluckbeast.

Karkat blinks. His lips twitch, his eyes soften. You think you catch the barest wisp of a smile. “That is a tiny cluckbeast and you burned it to a fucking crisp. God that’s pathetic.” He looks to the left. He looks to the right.

The Mayor bounces on his feet.

“...Thank you.”

 


End file.
